


Avoiding Loneliness

by fuzipenguin



Series: Explosive Relations [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Open Relationships, Other, cock control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker gets lonely. Er, Sunstreaker thinks *Wheeljack* is lonely. Yeah, that's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Wheeljack was humming absently to himself when he heard a muffled sound from near the lab’s door. Wiping his hands on his dusting cloth, he stepped over some piles of components that littered the supply closet’s floor and walked out into the main lab area. Standing just inside the open door was Sunstreaker, the tall golden frontliner looking around uncertainly.

                “Heya, Sunstreaker!” Wheeljack said cheerfully, waving his rag in the air.

                It had been a while since he’d seen either twin as they had been on back to back missions, either singly or together for the past month. Most of it had been escort duties for one of the commanding officers.

                Megatron was thought to have sustained several serious wounds in the last big battle and ever since, things had been rather quiet except for a minor skirmish here or there. Optimus had taken the opportunity to further relationships with the humans and so had been traveling around the country, visiting government officials and community events. The twins were a favorite for bodyguard duty; they were handsome in either root or alt form and while Sunstreaker was standoffish, Sideswipe could and would engage humans in a sparkbeat. And of course, most importantly, they were formidable in a fight.

                If Wheeljack recalled correctly, Sunstreaker had just returned from a trip with Prowl while Sideswipe was across the country with both Optimus and Ironhide. “How was your travels?” Wheeljack inquired.

                Sunstreaker shrugged. “Not a ‘con in sight,” he sighed. Wheeljack grinned behind the blast mask. As high strung as they were, he imagined that both twins were bored with bodyguard work.

                “Well, I’m sure ole Megs will be up and about sometime soon, wreaking havoc and needing a good beatdown,” Wheeljack said, watching Sunstreaker brighten at the thought. “So what can I do for you?”

               The golden twin suddenly looked furtive and he tossed a glance over his shoulder into the hall, before staring down at Wheeljack’s pedes. “Sides said… he said I should come to you if I… to make sure you weren’t lonely,” he finished, a glint of a challenge in his optics as they rose to meet Wheeljack’s.

               Wheeljack nodded sagely, struggling to tap down his amusement. He and the twins had been… ahem… getting to know one another better lately, and he was sure they were starting to get an idea of how closely tied his color indicators were to his emotions. Sunstreaker could be touchy at times, especially without his twin acting as a buffer, and Wheeljack didn’t want the other mech to think he thought any less of him because Sunstreaker craved companionship while his brother was away.

               “You know, I _have_ been kinda on my lonesome in here for a while,” Wheeljack admitted, looking around. “I’ve been cleaning for most of the day; I could definitely use a break.”

              “This is clean?” Sunstreaker asked, staring around with a skeptical expression.

              Wheeljack threw back his head and laughed. “Well, it ain’t Ratch’s ‘Bay, but I know where things are and that’s what’s important. Come on to the back; I think I have a few cubes of high grade still left over from the last party. You’re off duty, right?”

              “Yeah, for two more days,” Sunstreaker grumbled, following Wheeljack as he lead them through a maze of parts and other doodads. “I’m waiting for more canvases to come in, and I’ve already been down to the training room, shooting range, and the washrack. I’m bored.”

              “Bet you can’t wait for Sideswipe to get back, huh?” Wheeljack said sympathetically. The red twin always seemed to have an endless supply of ideas keeping the two of them occupied.

              “Yeah. But don’t tell Sideswipe that,” Sunstreaker hurried to say.

              “My lips are sealed,” Wheeljack promised, opening and walking through the door set into the very back of the lab. This used to be another closet, but he had long ago converted it. Now a berth lined one wall; opposite was a desk with an energon dispenser atop it. Finally there were several shelves filled with datapads on the last wall; half the devices were research related and the other half held music and book files.

              Sunstreaker made a beeline for the shelves as Wheeljack rummaged in one of the desk’s drawers, pulling out a decanter and two cubes. He set about to pouring the high grade into the glasses as Sunstreaker perused the datapads.

              “I’m starting to see a trend,” Sunstreaker commented, holding up two onlined devices. One boldly proclaimed the title of an old popular Cybertronian romance novel while the other one contained several converted human CDs, the majority of which had ‘love’ in the title. “Are you a closet romantic, ‘Jack?”

              “I’m not in the closet about anything. Well…” Wheeljack amended, gesturing around them with one of the full cubes and sloshing high grade onto his wrist. “I guess I am, because this is technically a closet, but…”

              “Here, give me that, you’re making a mess,” Sunstreaker interrupted with a roll of his optics. He took a few steps forward and carefully extracted the cube from Wheeljack’s grip. Nodding gratefully, Wheeljack raised his arm and licked away the drops of liquid. Waste not, want not!

              “Unless there’s a mystery, Sideswipe won’t read it,” Sunstreaker commented, holding up the bookfile.

              “Oh? He likes mysteries?”

              “Detective novels,” Sunstreaker explained, making a face before shoving both devices back onto the shelf. He gracefully lowered himself to the edge of the cot, testing its weight. Despite how flimsy it looked, Wheeljack had exhaustedly thrown himself atop it plenty of times and it had always held without even a squeak of protest.

              “Nothing wrong with those. Especially if there’s a pretty damsel in distress who needs rescuing and the hero gets a kiss at the end for saving his or her life,” Wheeljack said dreamily, sipping on his energon.

              Sunstreaker stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, smiling a little. “You’re as ridiculous as my brother.”

              “Take that back!” Wheeljack protested, pulling out the desk chair and plopping down on it. “I am in no way as ridiculous as Sideswipe!”

              “I suppose you’re right about that. He kinda has the market cornered on ‘special’,” Sunstreaker replied, his expression relaxing into one of fondness.

              Wheeljack’s spark twinged a little at the sight. The more time he spent with the twins, the more he realized just how deep their love for one another ran. Oh, they bickered and fought and constantly tried to one up the other, but they were also completely devoted to one another. It was like one of Wheeljack’s romance novels brought to life.

              “And you love him anyway,” Wheeljack said with a wistful little sigh.

              Sunstreaker raised his cube up, staring into the depths. “Don’t tell him that either,” he said before taking a large gulp.

              “When’s he due back?”

              “Few more days. Then some other chump can babysit Prime for a while. He’s Prime for a reason; don’t even know why they need us around.”

              “You’ve saved Optimus’ life on more than a few occasions,” Wheeljack pointed out. He recalled one such battle in which Sunstreaker had thrown himself directly into the life of fire heading for Prime’s spark.

              Sunstreaker threw back the rest of his glass, shrugging again with downcast optics. “Yeah, well… that’s in battle. Not at an elementary school.” He rested the empty cube on his knee and looked over at Wheeljack. “So we gonna frag or what?”

              Wheeljack choked a little on his next swallow, and he coughed violently as the potent high grade burned the back of his intake. Sunstreaker sat forward in alarm, and Wheeljack waved him away, placing his cube on the desk before he dropped it.

                He coughed for a few seconds longer before rebooting his vocalizer. “So because you’re… I mean, _I’m_ lonely, that means I need to interface?”

                Sunstreaker blinked at him as if not understanding. “Well… yeah? Besides… something to do, right? You’re off duty too, aren’t you?”

                Wheeljack considered the other mech. Every inch of Sunstreaker gleamed invitingly, practically begging to be touched. And licked… and… Wheeljack gave himself a little shake, thinking of the Pavlonian response in human studies. Apparently it existed in Cybertronians too; offer Wheeljack a shiny twin and he lost all processing power.

                He was most definitely off duty, and a little bored as well, to be honest. Pit, several hours ago, he’d been chased out of the MedBay by his best friend because he kept ‘getting in the way’. Not like Ratchet had been doing anything besides inventory and cleaning, but there was normally so little down time for the medical staff that Ratchet had been going at it with an odd look of glee in his optics. Wheeljack had thought maybe his own lab could do with a little spiffing up, but his spark hadn’t been in it, and Sunstreaker had been a welcome distraction.

                So either back to cleaning or indulge himself in a handsome and willing twin. Wheeljack didn’t really think he had much of a choice.

                “All right,” Wheeljack said slowly. He rubbed his suddenly trembling hands over his thighs. He’d never interfaced just one twin at a time. And of course it would be Sunstreaker, the brother he was still a little shy around. “I mean… if you think Sideswipe wouldn’t mind?”

                Sunstreaker waved a hand through the air, turning it into a beckoning motion in the next moment. “If I know my brother, Ironhide’s probably got him bent over behind a building somewhere.”

                Wheeljack choked again, this time on oral lubricant. He paused, half standing, and looked at Sunstreaker incredulously. “Ironhide?!”

                “Yeah, he’s a bit creaky, but he knows what he’s doing, if you know what I mean,” Sunstreaker reported with a salacious wink that was pure Sideswipian in nature. “Of course, he doesn’t have all the pretty decorations that you do,” he purred, reaching out and clasping Wheeljack around the wrist. He was tugged closer, between the spread of Sunstreaker’s thighs.

                “I think it was an Academy thing,” Wheeljack murmured, still trying to picture gruff, old Ironhide pounding into Sideswipe. “I bet their reds clash horribly.”

                Sunstreaker gave a surprised laugh. “I keep saying that! Ironhide’s more of a rust color than crimson. I have to get between the two of them to keep my optics from bleeding.”

                “Well, can’t have that. Optics are such a delicate repair,” Wheeljack said, cupping Sunstreaker’s cheek and swiping a thumb beneath the left optical socket.

                “C’mere. In my lap,” Sunstreaker said, scooting back across the bed and sitting flush against the wall. Wheeljack followed the pull of Sunstreaker’s hand and climbed across the berth. As Wheeljack awkwardly settled his aft on Sunstreaker’s lower thighs, the frontliner’s expression turned speculative.

                “Speaking of reds… you think Ratchet would ever be up for a frag?”

                Wheeljack settled his hands on Sunstreaker’s shoulders, feeling the slight vibration from the frontliner’s idling engine. “It’s possible. If you could ever catch him when he has a free minute. The trick is to ambush him and overwhelm him, fast. Medic’s hands are very sensitive, you know,” Wheeljack explained with a wink and a waggle of one of his own.

                “Yeah? You and Ratchet?” Sunstreaker questioned, one of his cooling fans clicking on with a soft whirr. “Damn. The two of you together would be hot as the Pit to watch.”

                  Wheeljack couldn’t help it; he preened a little. Neither he nor Ratchet had ever been considered especially handsome. In their student days, they had been chased after not because of their looks but because they were fearless and inventive.

                “Think us old mechs could show you a thing or two?” Wheeljack purred with a little swivel of his hips, the indirect compliment making him bold.

                Sunstreaker’s hands landed on Wheeljack’s hips and squeezed lightly. “Where do you think we picked up all our tricks? Sideswipe’s got an imagination, sure, but we like ‘facing older bots. More experience.”

                “You’ll have to look up Kup some time,” Wheeljack suggested, bending forward at Sunstreaker’s tug. The frontliner reached up and tapped Wheeljack’s blast mask, wordlessly requesting for it to be retracted. “Mech will blow your processor.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind. But you don’t do a bad job of that yourself. Mmm… kiss me,” Sunstreaker commanded, tilting his face up imperiously.

                As if kissing Sunstreaker was a chore. Wheeljack bent the rest of the way and pressed his lips against the other mech’s. His glossa flicked out, teasing Sunstreaker’s lower lip with barely there brushes that made the frontliner shiver. In response, Sunstreaker’s hands slipped back and down to cup Wheeljack’s aft, fingers teasingly gliding over the warming metal. When Wheeljack nipped at that plumping lip, Sunstreaker retaliated with a smack to Wheeljack’s aft, making him squeak and jump.

                Sunstreaker grinned into the kiss, hands leaving Wheeljack’s aft to glide up his dorsum, fingertips digging into whatever seams he ran across. When he reached the small winglets high atop Wheeljack’s back, Sunstreaker pinched and massaged the hinges until Wheeljack sagged in place. He broke away from Sunstreaker’s mouth to pant heavily against the other mech’s cheek, optics offlining in bliss.

                “Feels good?” Sunstreaker murmured, pressing harder.

                “Nnnghh…” Wheeljack moaned, hips instinctively canting downwards in search of something to rub his panel against.

                Sunstreaker chuckled, ducking his head in order to nose up under Wheeljack’s chin. Sharp denta nipped a stinging line of bites from his jaw down to his collar fairing, while those sinful fingers proceeded to melt Wheeljack into malleable putty.

                “Sideswipe said you liked that a lot when he did it last time. Guess he was right,” Sunstreaker murmured against Wheeljack’s throat.

                “Sensitive!” Wheeljack gasped, letting his head fall back so the other mech could more easily suck on the large support cable on the side of Wheeljack’s neck. “Not fair! Two can explore faster than one!”

                “Mmm… you have a point. Well, here’s a secret,” Sunstreaker offered, using crooked fingers to gently claw the outer edges of Wheeljack’s winglets. “Sides’ll melt if you pay attention to the area between his audial and jaw,” he said, demonstrating on Wheeljack with a nibble.

                “Oh, yes… I’ll have to remember that,” Wheeljack sighed, quite enjoying the attentions himself. “You?”

                “What about me? I’m a hardened frontline warrior, I don’t have soft spots,” Sunstreaker purred, thrusting his hips up. Wheeljack eagerly ground back down, wanting his panel open _now_. Would that be too soon? What would Sunstreaker think of him if he asked for the other mech’s spike so quickly?

                “I have it… ohhh, yesss… on good authority that you’re sensitive… mmmm… behind the knees,” Wheeljack whispered, letting his arms drop to his sides in order to ghost his fingers over the sides of Sunstreaker’s knees. The other mech shivered, optic shutters fluttering, and Wheeljack grinned in delight.

                Then he leaned forward and mouthed at his partner’s right helm fin, glossa flitting between the slats. Sunstreaker groaned deeply, tilting his helm to better push the fin against Wheeljack’s mouth. Sunstreaker’s fingers spasmed against Wheeljack’s back.

                “And these too,” Wheeljack murmured, delicately nibbling on one edge. And if he was smirking a little in triumph, well no one could see him way over here.

                Sunstreaker bucked up, a hot and hard spike suddenly, brushing against the inside of Wheeljack’s thigh. He automatically reached down for it, wrapping his hand around the width of it and squeezing.

                “Sideswipe’s been telling, hasn’t he?” Sunstreaker gasped out, thrusting up into the grip and nearly dislodging Wheeljack.

                “He held back for as long as he could.” Which had been all of two seconds. He had been delighted that Wheeljack had even asked.

                Sunstreaker rolled his optics even as one of his hands descended to massage Wheeljack’s panel. The insistent fingers felt so good that Wheeljack offlined his optics for a moment to rub against them, enjoying the teasing pressure.

                “Uh huh,” Sunstreaker said, making a disbelieving noise. “Open up. I want you to ride me.”

                Wheeljack’s panel opened so quickly that Sunstreaker had to yank his hand back or get his fingers pinched.

                “Eh heh. Sorry,” Wheeljack muttered, embarrassment turning his indicators pink. It was hard not to be eager. Just the offer of an interface had warmed him up, and those skillful fingers against his hinges had done the rest. Even now, he could feel the drip of lubricant spilling from the edges of his valve, the metalmesh rim swollen with energon.

                “You apologize too much,” Sunstreaker commented. “And for nothing, most of the time. You want this?” he asked, Wheeljack releasing Sunstreaker’s spike as he took hold of it. The softly rounded head played in the folds of Wheeljack’s valve and he bent over, vents stalling as he watched.

                “Frag, yes,” Wheeljack whimpered as the spike tip brushed over his node piercing, sending a bolt of pleasure straight up his back strut.

                “Then take it.”

                Wheeljack didn’t need to be told twice. He shuffled forward on his knees, easing up a fraction. Sunstreaker helpfully directed his spike to Wheeljack’s port entrance, Wheeljack using his partner’s shoulders to steady himself as he slowly slid down onto the hot length.

                Ohhhh, this was the best part. That feeling of pressure stretching his folds, his walls molding themselves to the spike invading his valve. Sinking down all the way until his ceiling node registered heat and then delicious contact from the spike head. Overload was great, of course, but sometimes it was wonderful to just savor this feeling of first penetration.

                Wheeljack gave a little shimmy of his hips, rubbing his ceiling node against the blunt end of Sunstreaker’s spike. His partner clutched at Wheeljack’s thighs, an oath escaping him.

                “Primus!”

                “Not quite,” Wheeljack moaned, rising up only to drop back down. “Though he’s showed me a few things or two…”

                Still seated completely, Wheeljack engaged his calipers in a slow ripple from the depths of his valve all the way to the entrance. Sunstreaker’s optics went wide, and his jaw dropped.

                “Oh. Oh, frag, ‘Jack. Do that again,” he gasped, bucking up slightly.

                So Wheeljack did. Again and again until Sunstreaker was a trembling mass of metal, engine roaring with every new pass of Wheeljack’s calipers. He wanted to continue, curious to see if he could overload Sunstreaker this way, but this amount of control was exhausting after a while. So after one final ripple, Wheeljack leaned back, supporting himself by grasping Sunstreaker’s knees.

                He began riding Sunstreaker’s spike in earnest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Every few thrusts he rotated his pelvis, grinding against Sunstreaker’s array. The charge was steadily building and Wheeljack knew it wouldn’t take much more for him to reach overload.

                “You close?” he moaned, helm falling back as Sunstreaker thrust upwards to meet Wheeljack’s downward motion.

                “Slag, ‘Jack, keep going, and I won’t last more than a minute,” Sunstreaker said, vocalizer strained. “I didn’t know anyone other than Sides could move like that.”

                Wheeljack’s hips made a little figure eight motion before he lifted nearly completely off Sunstreaker’s spike. “Then you’ve obviously never berthed Jazz.”

                Making a choked sound, Sunstreaker grabbed Wheeljack by the waist and slammed him down atop Sunstreaker’s lap. His spike throbbed and then transfluid erupted from the tip to blast against Wheeljack’s ceiling node. Already near the edge anyway, this was all it took to push Wheeljack into overload himself. Arms wobbling, he shouted wordlessly, valve clamping down tightly around Sunstreaker’s spike.

                “ _Primus_ … seriously? Jazz?” Sunstreaker questioned, voice nearly completely obscured by static. His fingers rhythmically clenched and released against Wheeljack’s hips, fingers trembling noticeably.

                Groaning, Wheeljack lifted his helm, staring down the line of his body at his partner. “Haven’t you ever…?”

                Cooling fans whirling madly, Sunstreaker shook his head. Condensation dripped down his heaving chestplate, and Wheeljack felt immeasurably smug at the sight.

                “No. He’s so… small…” Sunstreaker lamented. “We’d break him. He’s hinted once or twice, but we thought he was kidding.”

                Wheeljack shook his head. “Don’t underestimate Jazz. He could handle you two, no problem. Mech’s got modifications all over the place. No piercings, though,” he added as an afterthought. He creakily pushed himself upright, transferring his hands to Sunstreaker’s shoulders.

                “That’s a thought I’ll have to keep in mind,” Sunstreaker mused. “Is there anyone on this ship you _haven’t_ ‘faced?”

                “Plenty,” Wheeljack admitted, starting to regret recommending other mechs for the twins to frag. He was already sure they would tire of him quickly and move on; why was he helping? “I mean, there’s at least one. Maybe two…”

                He grinned down at Sunstreaker as he pushed himself upright and shuffled backwards a bit.

                Sunstreakr’s orbital ridges rose. “Oh, just one or two, huh? Sides’ is right; you have untapped depths.”

                Wheeljack slid off the bed and stood, stretching his arms above his head until his lower back popped. Then he leaned forward and hooked the back of Sunstreaker’s knees, yanking the other mech across the bed with one mighty heave. Sunstreaker slid to the edge with a surprised yelp, hands forming fists before relaxing them when Wheeljack winked at him mischievously.

                “What I have…” Wheeljack said, stepping between Sunstreaker’s widespread knees, “…is a spike that needs some attention.”

                He reached down beneath Sunstreaker’s depressurizing length and fondled the rim of his soaking wet valve. “And I know just the place where it can get some.”

                “That is…” Wheeljack paused, looking back up at his partner hopefully. He hadn’t been too forward, had he? He was actually a little surprised Sunstreaker let himself be mech-handled the way he had. “… if you’re ok with that?”

                Sunstreaker’s optics gleamed, and he reached out to fondle the barbell at the tip of Wheeljack’s spike, tugging on it until Wheeljack moaned.

                “I think I’m good with that, yeah.”

 

~ End


	2. Epilogue: Mission Accomplished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes after metal-melting hot sex? Snuggling of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a tumblr request from an anon asking for a continuation of Avoiding Loneliness

     Cooling fans screaming their displeasure at being so overworked, Wheeljack collapsed to the berth at Sunstreaker’s side. Venturing a glance upwards, Wheeljack saw that Sunstreaker’s optics were still offlined, his jaw dropped as he sucked in droughts of air to help cool his overheated frame. 

     “I feel much less lonely now, thank you,” Wheeljack snarked, reaching out a hand to pat Sunstreaker’s chest. Now that feeling was starting to return to Wheeljack’s legs, he laboriously drew them up onto the berth, knees resting atop Sunstreaker’s closest thigh.

     “Mission accomplished,” Sunstreaker quipped back. 

     They descended into a companionable silence, broken only by the cooling ticks of their engines and slowing ventilations. 

     Finally, Sunstreaker gave a grunt and began twisting around on the berth, accidentally kneeing Wheeljack in the side. Wheeljack didn’t protest, more bemused than anything especially when a golden hand reached out and grabbed Wheeljack’s shoulder, dragging him along. 

     Wheeljack let himself be positioned how Sunstreaker wanted, which was on Wheeljack’s side with his back to the wall. Sunstreaker flipped to his side as well, squirming around until his dorsum was pressed against Wheeljack’s front. He ended up firmly pinned between the wall and a still overly warm frontliner, but Wheeljack didn’t mind in the slightest, especially when Sunstreaker reached back and grabbed Wheeljack’s hand. He tugged, Wheeljack automatically draping his arm across Sunstreaker’s chest in response. 

     And then, somehow… he was cuddling Sunstreaker. 

     “What are we doing?” Wheeljack asked in a hushed voice after several minutes. He was frozen in place, cables tense at the unusual position he found himself in.

     “Hmm?” Sunstreaker asked, stirring. His voice was adorably sleepy, and Wheeljack fought hard to hold back the reactive squeal. “Rechargin’. Can’t let you sleep alone. Wouldn’t be right.”

     Wheeljack finally relaxed against Sunstreaker’s back, hand soothing over a golden chestplate. The spark beneath it pulsed steadily.

     “No. No, of course not. Thank you for keeping me company,” Wheeljack told the nape of Sunstreaker’s neck before daring to nuzzle it. 

     Wheeljack’s own spark slowed to match the rhythm under his palm, and he let recharge’s soft embrace enfold him. 

 

~ End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series now, you guys. I have about three more ideas for fics. Damn you, Wheeljack for being so fun to write!


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